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“You both might want to head—”

“No.” Lachlan moves for the first time to stand next to me. The hollow void that had been his features is replaced with a set determination that calms some of the anxiousness in my gut. “Bron is my responsibility. If he caught up with Everly again, it’s my job to stop him.”

Candace seems unaffected by his claim. She studies him with the same steely dispassion before facing her crew.

“Daisy, if you please.”

Daisy sprints down the driveway, long, thick coils bouncing across her back as she rounds the corner in the direction of the Singh’s house.

“If you two would like to help, maybe you can drive—”

A high roar of a feral beast fills the air, the rumble of something massive that amps in power the closer it gets. All heads turn as a sleek, blackRoad Kingrumbles up the driveway. A beautiful piece of machinery with gleaming chrome sides and a perfect matte finish. It’s a thing of dreams — mainly mine. But I’m not given a chance to admire the sweet ride when I’m aware of the two perched on its back.

Close together.

The driver in his dark jeans and black top is neither here nor there, but it’s the long, pale arms clasped around his middle that overrides all the good feelings I had over the bike itself. The passenger is pressed way too close, way too personal with naked legs splayed wide around the driver’s hips, chest flush against his lean back.

He takes a sharp turn and rolls to a stop next to Lachlan’s truck. The rider straightens and waits for the familiar figure clinging to his back to hop off.

Lauren’s thick, blonde strands tumble around her bare shoulders with the removal of her helmet. But I’m staring at the driver, my dislike immediate, even before he drags off his covering and turns to watch Lauren — my Lauren — like he’dhad this dream before and couldn’t believe his damn luck. It’s the idiot expression of a puppy deeply in love with the creature standing before him.

Hell. Fucking. No.

Then, as if realizing he has an audience, he turns all that boyish charm on the group like he didn’t just risk my daughter’s life on that death trap.

“Mrs. Ferguson.” His stupid face curls into a charming smile. “Ladies. I apologize for the noise.”

Unlike our cold greeting, Candace gives the kid a warm, but disapproving frown. “You know how I feel about that thing, Teddy.”

His grin is lopsided and boyish. “I do. My sincere apologies, ma’am. I was told it was an emergency, and I can never say no to a lady in distress.”

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Kiss ass.

Lauren hurries over to us, refocusing my attention. “Is she back?”

I shake my head and start to answer when Daisy returns.

“Mrs. Singh says Everly arrived, but she grabbed a few bags and left almost immediately.”

There’s silence as the crowd peers at each other.

“Well,” Candace begins, visibly contemplating this news, “perhaps she decided she needed space and has gone away for alittle while. No one can blame her. I’m sure she will return when she’s ready.” She claps her hands together, the matter corrected in her mind. “I think we can all head home now.”

Better than trained soldiers, each one moves without a whisper of complaint. The group disperses. Murmurs of relief follow them as the women make their way off Everly’s driveway. Everyone, except Candace.

She moves to stand before Lachlan with an almost sadness to her eyes. “I truly hope you meant what you said, Mr. Shaw. Jefferson is not the kind of town where we will allow anyone to hurt one of our own.”

Except yourselves,I think vaguely, but keep my mouth shut. The hypocrisy does not go unnoticed. Aside from Lachlan, I never had siblings, but I’m guessing it’s one of those things where you can beat on your sibling, but no one else can. Still, I keep quiet as the woman gives us each a final glance before following the crowd.

“Where would she go?” Lauren sweeps back a lock of hair and faces us.

“Have you tried calling her?” I ask her.

Lauren reaches for her pocket and pulls out her phone.

“Might not work.” Teddy, shiny, black helmet tucked beneath his arm, steps closer a few feet. Too close, but I allow it. “She’s not going to get any reception.”